


Soft Swap (Sink Your Fangs Into It Remix)

by bironic



Category: House M.D., Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Anal Play, Biting, Bloodplay, Character Turned Into Vampire, Crossover, Crossover Pairing, Dildos, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, First Time, Foursome, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Handcuffs, Holding Hands, M/M, Open Relationships, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Outsider, Remix, Strip Tease, Vampire Sex, Vampires, consensual voyeurism, involuntary outing, mild bondage, swinging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-23
Updated: 2011-04-23
Packaged: 2017-10-18 10:52:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/188188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bironic/pseuds/bironic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's the Guinness record for number of vampire-human simultaneous orgasms?" asked Wilson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soft Swap (Sink Your Fangs Into It Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dee_Laundry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Out of the Blue](https://archiveofourown.org/works/146839) by [Dee_Laundry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dee_Laundry/pseuds/Dee_Laundry). 



Another day that ended in "y," another fundraising event. The difference being that House was willing to attend this particular benefit without the threat of Cuddy docking any paychecks or Wilson declaring his veins a no-bite zone. Of course, House had taken the opportunity to play reluctant and extract a promise that he could drink from Wilson's throat afterwards in exchange for his charming presence.

(House didn't get to drink from Wilson's throat nearly enough; Wilson protested that it was unprofessional to go to work with the telltale twin-pinpricked bruise taking up half his neck and didn't agree with House's perfectly reasonable counterargument that it was hardly different than when Wilson had gone to work with hickeys from third-floor administrative assistants who shall remain nameless.)

The point being: Here he was in the grand ballroom of the Princeton-Plainsboro Hilton at the annual John Polidori Memorial Benefit co-sponsored by the Northeast Regional Vampire-Human Alliance for Health, all done up in the blue button-down and pressed khakis Wilson had insisted on, hair combed, one hand on the black cane with the ridiculous Malfoy-worthy ornate silver handle he'd bought for the sheer cliché value, looking every inch the respectable vampire master toting his handsome human companion.

The possessive hand on the back of Wilson's neck wasn't simply for show, however. Nor was the thumb he was stroking over warm skin and leather.

("Wear your collar for me," he'd whispered in Wilson's ear as they were getting ready.

Wilson had let him drape the strip of soft brown leather across his throat and fasten the clasp. The quiet breath he'd drawn, the way his pulse had kicked up as House had toyed with the amulet that held a drop of House's blood to declare his ownership, had precipitated a nuzzle-turned-makeout session that had led to them arriving fashionably mussed and just as fashionably late.)

"So," House said, scanning the room for anomalies among the usual crowd of staff and patrons, part country club and part Gothic ball. A handful of vampires he could pick out at a glance, most with companions at their sides; none he recognized. A couple of idiots in capes. Women in cocktail dresses displaying their necks for the masters and their cleavage for the rest. Men with unbuttoned collars doing the same. Sex and money, sex and blood. Solicitation either way you looked at it. "We're hunting hospital donors."

Wilson shot him a warning glance. "Not literally."

House snorted. "As if three-quarters of these people aren't hoping to go home with someone tall, dark and fanged at the end of the night." He pointedly eyed a tall, dark and human guy over by the salad buffet who looked like he had deep pockets and might not mind going for a bite out back after he signed the check.

"House. Behave." But Wilson was following House's line of sight and couldn't hide the spark of interest in his gaze. Fortyish and trim in a blazer/jeans combo, buffet guy was totally Wilson's type: a barely controlled shock of hair and five o'clock shadow advertising his masculinity, offset by a full lower lip and a braided string bracelet on one wrist. Wilson actually shook his head as if to clear it, and House had to suppress a chuckle. The evening was looking up.

"Right," he said, giving Wilson's neck a final squeeze. "You go make nice with the ladies and gentlemen with big… wallets, and I'll get the drinks."

"It was a mistake to tell you about the open bar, wasn't it."

"Hey, I have draughts on tap whenever I want them. O neg, vintage 1969."

"An excellent year," Wilson said, deadpan. "Don't bite anyone I wouldn't." Then he was off to do his charming woe-for-the-sick-children thing.

House engaged with a few groups in a perfunctory attempt to fulfill the donation quota Cuddy had enforced on him, but he could only tolerate so many insipid conversations about the best brands of blackout blinds and the stock trends of artificial blood before getting a drink was no longer simply desirable but _imperative_. He headed for the bar.

"…a moron or are you actually trying to kill me?" someone was snapping at the bartender as House approached. "Because I know stakes and sunlight are the famous ways to off a so-called immortal, but let me tell you, going into cardiac arrest from anaphylactic shock and ending up with eternal locked-in syndrome is no less horrific."

"I—" stammered the bartender, who looked sweaty and terrified and smelled accordingly delicious. House licked his lips. "But you only said no rodents' blood."

The guy made an apoplectic noise. "And if you had taken grade-school biology, you would know that includes rabbits! Just—get out of here before you poison someone else. I'll mix my own drink."

The bartender made a hasty exit, leaving his tormentor and House alone at the bar.

"Rodent allergy, huh," House remarked. "Sucks to be you."

The guy looked at him as he stepped behind the bar. He had the striking eyes, luminous skin and too-quick movements of a vampire, all right, and his crooked slash of a mouth turned down in a frown at House's line. "Oh ha ha, yes, the puns and irony that are my unlife. Become immortal only to trade one food allergy for another." He turned away to peruse the shelf of discreetly labeled red bottles. "What're you having?"

"Scotch with a double shot of AB." He sized the guy up. Receding—well, receded—hairline, solid shoulders, slight paunch. Looked a few human years younger than House but felt several decades deader. No ring to indicate a dedicated companion. "You don't see too many journal articles about vampire immunology," House remarked.

"Not unless they're trying to figure out how our bodies prevent agglutination when mixing different blood types." The guy snorted. "And good luck with that. Medical research may as well call itself tea leaf reading." He slid House's tumbler across the bar to him.

House held it up in a toast. "Greg House, M.D."

The guy went a little pink at that. "Ah. Sorry." Canadian, then, with an 'o' like that. "Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D., theoretical astrophysicist and engineer, underappreciated genius, saver of lives at the eleventh hour, _et cetera_."

McKay finished mixing a Bloody Mary for himself, heavy on the blood, with a strangely happy light in his eyes when he added a twist of lemon. House decided on the direct route: "If you think that highly of the medical establishment, what are you doing at a hospital benefit?"

"Oh, that." McKay took a sip and made a satisfied sound. "Sheppard and I are representing the U.S. military-industrial complex's openness to alternate lifestyles and unwavering dedication to improved health for all. Or something. Apparently the Air Force PR department thinks it's logical to demonstrate its support of vampire-human relations by sending a vampire contractor and a lieutenant colonel as temporary goodwill ambassadors while still enforcing Don't Ask, Don't Tell for LGBTC soldiers and officers."

"Doesn't that mean you've just violated regs by outing Sheppard as your companion?"

McKay spluttered into his drink. "What? No. No no. Sheppard's not— First of all, he's not gay, and second, he's certainly not my companion." Though the flush on his cheeks suggested he wouldn't mind if Sheppard were, and he hadn't denied his own preferences either.

"Anyway," McKay said, switching topics with the subtlety of a rhinoceros at a tea party. "What about you? I'm told I'm not good at reading people, but you don't strike me as the schmoozing type."

"Would it sound unmasterly to say my companion dragged me here?"

McKay hummed. "Depends. Is she putting out?"

House snorted. "He, and yes."

That earned a shrug. "Sounds good to me."

House took advantage of the subsequent lull in the conversation to turn his head and seek Wilson out in the crowd. The master-companion bond between them had been sitting like a low buzz in the back of his skull, assuring him that Wilson was still nearby, and it didn't take long to spot him at one of the cocktail tables talking to—ah, buffet guy. They were angled towards each other, heads close so they could hear over the noise of the room. House took a moment to appreciate the picture they made. Then he took a few more moments to imagine it with fewer clothes.

He tuned his hearing their way so he could eavesdrop. One of the many enjoyable perks of being supernatural.

 _"…been interested in it for a long time," buffet guy was saying._

 _"There are trade-offs, of course, but yeah, the sex is great," Wilson replied._

 _"What about when he, you know, bites you? Is it different when you're his companion than if you do it with some vamp off the street?"_

As they continued, Wilson broke buffet guy's gaze to look straight at House. House stared back. Wilson raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. House nodded: permission granted to invite a second attractive warm body into their bed tonight.

"At least he's taking a break from flirting with Elvira and the trust fund ladies with cash to burn," McKay said at his ear.

House turned his head sharply. "What?"

McKay was gazing in the same direction House had been. "Sheppard. He's been Kirking his way through the room all night as if he's the one who needs to charm donations out of everyone and not the other way around. Looks like he's taking a breather to chat with Vidal Sassoon over there." He sighed. "God, they look good together."

House tried to follow his gaze. Then he laughed. "That's Sheppard? Buffet guy?"

"What?"

"Anime hair, GQ casual pose, third table from the right?"

"Um. Yeah."

"Well, the good news for you is he is definitely at least bisexual." He watched as Wilson put a hand on Sheppard's wrist on the table and said something that made Sheppard duck his head. Sheppard didn't move away.

 _"…could come back with us and find out," said Wilson. "Assuming House likes you, of course."_

 _"That'd be—yeah," said Sheppard. "Yeah. But look, I need a guarantee I'm gonna make it out of there alive."_

 _"Oh. Of course. Whatever you need. Do you have a friend you can tell where you are?"_

"The bad news for you is," House concluded, "he's probably coming home with us tonight."

McKay made a decidedly un-vampire-like noise. "'Us'?"

"My companion and me, that is. Unless you care to join?" While McKay gaped, House downed the rest of his drink and started toward the table.

Wilson saw him coming and pointed. Sheppard looked over and nodded, then blinked and straightened at something behind House. McKay following at his heels, no doubt.

"House, this is John," Wilson said smoothly when he arrived. "He's also interested in companion lif—"

"Nice to meet you," John interrupted, offering a firm-for-a-human handshake. Then, louder: "Hey, McKay. Have fun scaring away all the bartenders?"

"Yes, yes, I'm dying of laughter," McKay said as he arrived. "Oh, wait, I'm already dead." He nodded at Wilson's amulet and said to House, "Yours?"

"Got it in one. Rodney McKay, Ph.D., Ph.D., James Wilson, weeper over the sick and downtrodden."

"Pleasure," said Wilson, who was watching the whole exchange with raised eyebrows. "House, John and I have been talking, and he's interested in coming back wi—"

"Right," Sheppard interrupted again, and this time his cheeks were tinged red. He scratched at the back of his head. "Uh. Could we maybe… somewhere else?"

"Sorry?" said Wilson.

"What?" said McKay.

"Um," said John, and took a desperate swallow of his beer.

"Okaaaay," said House. "Let me put this in simple terms for everyone. McKay, your lieutenant colonel is a little bit gay." Sheppard choked on his beer. "You didn't ask, he didn't tell, everyone's happy. Sheppard, McKay's been pining after you in a very manly vampire fashion"—now it was McKay's turn to splutter—"but his lack of interpersonal skills has prevented him from both noticing your sexual preferences and admitting his feelings. It's possible you return the sentiment but haven't found a way to express how much you'd like him to suck on your neck and other parts of your body because you were raised in a homophobic household and now work for a repressive military establishment. Or your interest could be limited to humans, although I doubt it based on the way your body responded when McKay and I showed up."

Sheppard and McKay stared at him. Wilson pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Either way, now that that's cleared up, Wilson and I would like to debauch you tonight. Double-doctorate participants optional. What do you say?"

 

* * *

 

Which was how, after Wilson and Sheppard did a circuit to bid their polite farewells and Sheppard and McKay engaged in a brief but fierce whisper-argument off to the side, the four of them ended up in the elevator to McKay and Sheppard's floor.

McKay seemed to be stuck on repeat. "Seriously, though, you're gay?"

"Shut it, McKay." Sheppard's ears were red. McKay must have at least seen that. Or smelled it. Sheppard and Wilson were both starting to shed pheromones on top of the scent of blood already filling the confines of the elevator. It was enough to make House take a deep, appreciative breath.

They decided on McKay's room; he claimed he had supplies. He definitely had a king-size bed.

"You brought _sex toys_ back to—back here?" said Sheppard when McKay pulled a box from his suitcase and opened it to display a small collection of insertables and bondage gear plus condoms, lubricant and a first-aid kit.

"There's nothing wrong with being opportunistic," McKay sniffed.

"Or kinky," House added. "See anything you like?" he asked Wilson, who was peering into the box with more than a little interest. "You want cuffs tonight?"

Wilson made a speculative face before looking up at him. "How are we doing this?"

House considered. "You two"—gesturing at Wilson and Sheppard with his cane—"get to play with each other for a while. I'll tell you what to do. You"—to McKay—"get to watch." There; that should establish who was alpha in this group.

"Hey," McKay protested, predictably.

"Do you lay a claim on him?"

Sheppard looked sort of hopeful, and McKay looked sort of longing, but he sighed, "No," and they both deflated. Idiots.

"Right then. Ground rules. No one touches Wilson without my permission. No one bites me."

Nods all around.

"No bites anywhere visible," added Sheppard. "I'm back on active duty Monday. No oral or anal without a rubber. No verbal humiliation, and I won't call you 'sir.' Other than that, I'm game."

"No safe words required," said Wilson. "Anyone says 'stop,' you stop."

"Anything to add?" House asked McKay, who'd gone wide-eyed.

McKay shook his head.

"Okay, we can adjust as we go. Sheppard. What do you want out of this?"

Sheppard shot a nervous glance at McKay. "I want…" He gave Wilson a once-over, considered House for several long moments, chewed on his lower lip, and then straightened and said, "I want to get fucked."

McKay whimpered.

"My ass, my mouth, both, whichever. I like being filled." He sounded defiant but still looked nervous. House doubted he'd ever said this out loud before. "And I want to get bitten. Preferably at the same time."

McKay, for his part, looked like he'd just learned what porn was. House could sympathize.

"We can work with that," House said. "Any objections?"

Silence.

"Good. You two: in front of the bed. Start touching each other. Keep it above the waist. No mouths yet and no clothes off." He took one of the two armchairs by the window and settled in to watch, tossing his cane—nothing but affectation since he'd been turned—to the carpet. After a moment, McKay took the other chair.

Wilson and Sheppard faced each other.

"Hey," Wilson murmured.

"Hey back," said Sheppard, just as quietly.

"I'm going to—" He held his hands up, inches from Sheppard's chest.

"Yeah," Sheppard said, rough and low. "Me too."

They explored each other, restrained but not tentative. Wilson stroked across Sheppard's dress shirt, over buttons and under the jacket, the sound of hands dragging over crisp fabric loud in the room. Sheppard wrapped one hand around Wilson's upper arm and with the other fingered his tie, moving up to tease at the junction of shirt collar and neck. House's khakis went tight. Wilson's lips parted; he lifted one hand from Sheppard's chest to touch Sheppard's own lower lip.

McKay stirred. "This is weird. Is this weird?"

"You can wait in the hall," House offered without looking away from the show.

"This is my room!"

"Hey, McKay," said Sheppard.

"What?" he snapped.

"Permission?" he asked House with a glance at Wilson's mouth. House nodded.

Sheppard leaned in and kissed Wilson.

"Oh," McKay breathed, subsiding. "That's. Yes."

The kiss kicked things up a notch. They pressed and retreated, hummed and sucked and showed flashes of tongue. Sheppard slid one hand around the back of Wilson's head, and Wilson drew Sheppard to him with his arms under Sheppard's jacket. The room grew warmer.

"Jackets and shirts," House ordered. He rested a palm on his scarred thigh, teasing himself.

They didn't even break apart to do it. Sheppard just started fumbling at Wilson's tie until Wilson made a move that had Sheppard's jacket halfway off, forcing him to pause to shuck it. Then Sheppard returned the favor. His mouth never left Wilson's for more than a breath as both jackets crumpled at their feet.

Sheppard resumed tugging Wilson's tie free while Wilson went to work on Sheppard's shirt buttons. Wilson made a noise into the kiss when he undid the last one and got his hands on skin. A second later, Sheppard made a noise of his own; Wilson was rubbing his nipples. Perched at the edge of his chair, McKay squirmed and shifted.

The tie came off, finally, and Wilson broke the kiss to toss it at House with a grin. Then he ducked down and put his mouth to Sheppard's chest. Sheppard and McKay both drew in sharp breaths at that. Sheppard bit his lip again and watched while Wilson tongued and sucked his way from one pec to the other with special attention given to each nipple, and let his arms go slack when Wilson pushed his shirt off the rest of the way.

Sheppard had a healthy amount of dark hair across his chest, belly and forearms. His stomach had a middle-aged softness to it, but his arms had pretty good definition, and House found his gaze following the dip below Sheppard's visible oblique to where it was interrupted by his trousers.

His gaze shot back up when Wilson gave Sheppard's dog tags a flick with his tongue and let them settle back into place with a soft scrape of metal.

"Get up here," Sheppard said, apparently so he could mouth at Wilson's jaw while he untucked Wilson's shirt and started undoing the buttons. Wilson tilted his head to give him better access and went to work at the bottom until his fingers met Sheppard's halfway up. Then he was watching House watch him as Sheppard stripped the shirt off and lifted his undershirt over his head as well.

"What now?" Wilson murmured, resting his head on Sheppard's shoulder when Sheppard stepped behind him. House felt a surge of possessiveness, but with Wilson gazing at him so affectionately, it was tempered by pride. Wilson was his, even as someone else's arms folded across his chest.

Sheppard mouthed at Wilson's collar, tongue darting beneath the leather and back just as quickly while Wilson squirmed, then licked a swift stripe up the side of Wilson's neck. McKay gasped. Now Sheppard was the one staring at House with an insubordinate raise of an eyebrow that had doubtless pissed off more than one commanding officer. Daring House to do something. One hand toyed with Wilson's waistband.

House blatantly adjusted his own pants and took his time deciding. "McKay, you have a watch?"

McKay startled at being addressed, but he recovered his usual derision quickly enough. He held up his timepiece-adorned left wrist with a "duh" expression.

"Good. Time them." To Wilson and Sheppard, he said, "I want both of you naked on the bed in thirty seconds. Then you can each pick something from McKay's box of wonders. Go."

Wilson went for his shoelaces first, while Sheppard's jeans and boxers got pushed to his ankles. House took a long, appreciative look at Sheppard, bent in half at the waist to work his shoes off; a quick glance to the side showed McKay staring just as raptly at his taut ass and thighs. Then House turned his gaze to Wilson's pleasantly familiar contours as Wilson's pants and underwear hit the floor. Sheppard triumphed over shoes and socks, and then both men hopped onto the bed, breathing faster than before and grinning at each other. House snorted when they high-fived.

Wilson had nothing left but his collar, and Sheppard was down to tags, watch and bracelet. They did, as McKay had noted, make a pretty picture together.

"Time?" House asked.

"Twenty-one seconds," McKay replied.

"Good. Take one item each from the box, and as a reward for finishing nine seconds early you can do what you want with them for nine minutes."

They rummaged around. Wilson came out with—big surprise—the wide leather wrist cuffs with the long chain. Sheppard chose a slim black dildo about the thickness of a thumb.

"Nice," said House.

Sheppard picked up the lube and a condom, too, and handed everything to Wilson. "Do me?"

"As if it's a hardship," McKay broke in. Sheppard gave him a hot look as he settled on all fours on the bedspread.

"Have you done this before?" House asked as Wilson prepped.

"Which part?" asked Sheppard, smirking.

"Had sex with a guy."

What was probably going to be a sarcastic retort became more of a moan as Wilson touched the tip of the slicked-up dildo to his ass and circled it. "Yes."

"With a vampire?"

Sheppard locked eyes with McKay. "Yes."

McKay drew in a shaky breath. Wilson put a hand at the small of Sheppard's back.

"With two?"

He adjusted his stance. "Not until tonight."

Any further conversation was derailed when Wilson pushed. Sheppard kept watching McKay, face and throat working to conceal his reactions, as Wilson pressed the dildo slowly in.

"All right?" Wilson murmured when it was seated. Sheppard gave a soft moan of approval, prompting House and McKay alike to shift in their chairs. "Can you hold it there for a minute?"

"I think so. Yeah."

Wilson pressed a thumb to the flared base before letting go of the dildo. When he sat back, House was treated to the sight of Sheppard's straight back, bare nape, bare ass, thick bobbing cock, the little black rubber disc between his cheeks like a bull's-eye. Sheppard's buttocks clenched as he tried to keep the dildo from sliding free.

"Beautiful," McKay murmured.

Wilson—not too shabby a sight himself with his chest and dick gone red and his hair rumpled—picked up the cuffs and tested the key where Sheppard could see to make sure they opened. He tossed the key back in the box and slid one cuff closed around his right hand. Then he reached beneath Sheppard and asked for his left. Sheppard hesitated, but acquiesced. The cuff closed, and then the two men were connected by their non-dominant hands.

"And here I thought I'd be spending the night fending off the galaxy's dullest small talk by a room full of moronic stuffed shirts, if that's not redundant," said McKay. He laughed softly.

"Cheers," said House. He raised an imaginary glass.

Wilson was starting out slow. He'd let their cuffed hands stay braced on the bedspread and was pulling and pushing the dildo slowly out and in with his left, drawing the most delicious quiet sounds from Sheppard on almost every stroke.

Minutes passed, until Sheppard was sweaty and trembling and his noises had taken on an edge of need.

"Can I touch him?" Wilson asked.

"Yes," McKay and House answered at the same time. House raised his eyebrows but only added, "But don't let him come yet."

Wilson maneuvered Sheppard down onto one shoulder, bringing their connected hands toward Sheppard's body. From what House could see, he pressed his palm to Sheppard's abdomen and stroked, as if gentling a horse. Then his hand—their hands—moved lower, down one hip, around Sheppard's straining erection, to cup his balls.

Sheppard whined.

"It's all right," Wilson murmured. "Don't hold back."

"Fuck," said Sheppard. He let his head hang. "That feels good."

House let his hand drift to his groin at the sight and sound of Wilson taking charge under his supervision. He fixated on the bumps of Sheppard's cervical vertebrae, the delicate chain resting on the sweat-shiny skin there like the stark line of Wilson's own collar. Pulses of blood-hot arousal wafted over from the bed.

Sheppard's groan reverberated throughout the room when Wilson took hold of his cock.

Minutes passed in a haze of heavy breathing punctuated with the sounds Sheppard couldn't suppress and Wilson's encouragement, skin on skin and the cuff chain clinking, the wet crackle of the dildo shoving in and out, McKay's fingers digging ever harder into the armrests.

"I've gotta," Sheppard groaned finally. "Stop, or I'm gonna—"

"Go ahead," said House.

McKay made a questioning noise.

"He'll come again when he's bitten," House said without looking away. "Watch, or you'll miss it."

Wilson was pulling at Sheppard hard and fast now, bringing Sheppard's captive hand along for the ride, and working the dildo in quick, short strokes.

"Ah," said Sheppard. He pounded the mattress with his free hand. "Fuck."

He came in ropy spurts across the bedspread and the back of his own forearm. The smell hit House like something physical.

Wilson eased him through it until the last shivers faded. Sheppard moved to collapse on the bed, but Wilson said, "Hang on," and tugged the dildo free so he could execute an inside turn with Sheppard to get their arms side by side. Only then did they fall back and breathe.

 

* * *

 

Sheppard looked wrecked. So did McKay.

Wilson had gone tight around the eyes. His dick reached for the ceiling, but he knew better than to touch it without House's go-ahead.

Which House was feeling generous enough to give. Stroking lightly over the bulge in his khakis, breathing in the heady scents of blood and semen, he said, "Sheppard. When your brain cells settle back into place, see if you can't put your mouth to good use helping Wilson out."

Five minutes later, House was leaning back and enjoying the sight of Wilson stretched out with a hand in Sheppard's hair, Sheppard on his knees and elbows over him, sucking his cock with an intensity worthy of a vampire. The fingers of their cuffed hands interlocked, knuckles white as they pressed hard into the mattress. Sheppard's muffled sounds of pleasure mingled with Wilson's gasps to wind House's own arousal even tighter. He rubbed his tongue along one fang. It was almost time to join in.

" _Sheppard_ ," McKay blurted, sounding broken.

Sheppard pulled off long enough to pant, "So come here, already."

McKay was on the bed so fast Sheppard and Wilson probably only saw it as a blur. "Sheppard. John. God. Can I touch you?"

Mouth occupied once more, he hummed.

"Can I fuck you?"

He pulled off again to gasp. "Yeah."

"Can I bite you?"

"Anything."

Sheppard moved to suck Wilson down again, but McKay stopped him with a shaking hand on the side of his face. Leaning in as though still expecting to be rebuffed at any second, he took Sheppard's mouth in a kiss. It started off gentle but soon escalated into the sort of face-sucking typically only seen in porn. Wilson stared up at them.

House cleared his throat.

McKay pulled away and sent a glare over to him that was made far less effective by the grin tugging at his mouth. "Oh, come on, like you're not going to enjoy the show."

By the time McKay slid home into Sheppard's ass while Sheppard continued to blow Wilson, all three of them rocking and moaning with each thrust, House had to admit he was right.

 

* * *

 

House was on his knees on the bed, fucking into Wilson, who was also on his knees, his back to House's chest, House's hands on his hips like iron. McKay and Sheppard mirrored their position. Chest to chest, flushed from face to sternum, Sheppard and Wilson were half kissing, half panting into each other's mouths. They clutched at each other's shoulders with their bound hands. Their dicks rubbed together every few thrusts. House could feel the jolt run up Wilson's back every time they collided.

"Oh, shit, oh, shit," Sheppard was groaning. "Rodney."

"Not yet," House warned, but he looked at McKay, not Sheppard.

McKay rolled his eyes but didn't slow his pace. "What is this, a competition?"

"They'll come when we bite them and not before," House said.

"Which would be when, exactly?"

"House," Wilson chimed in in a strained voice. He couldn't demand anything without risking House denying him release, but he probably didn't want to beg in front of their guests either.

So Wilson was ready. Sheppard certainly seemed ready. House would have strung them all along some more just for kicks, except he was more than ready, too.

"All right. You take him, I've got Wilson." He wasn't sure he wanted to share that final intimate part of Wilson yet, and anyway, McKay didn't look like he was about to share Sheppard now that he'd finally snagged him.

House tugged Wilson's collar open and dropped it on the bedside table. Wilson let his head fall back to expose his throat. His Adam's apple lifted with each thrust. House stared at his pulsing carotid and savored the anticipation.

In his peripheral vision, Sheppard offered up the arm with the bracelet to McKay and leaned back into him as far as the cuffs permitted. "Here. The wristband will cover it." McKay took it and pressed a kiss to the underside before baring his fangs.

House opened his own mouth wide and sank into Wilson's throat.

He lost track of who came when and which unbelievably erotic noises emanated from whose bodies. All he knew was the thick flow of Wilson's blood across his tongue and down his throat, the heat of his body all along House's, the thrum of his heartbeat and the urgency of his arousal. House drank and held Wilson tight and jerked him until he spilled over his hand with a hoarse exclamation. The hormones surged through his blood, triggering House's own orgasm; he took one more swallow, two, before pulling away to lick at the livid wound.

"Mm," said Wilson, going boneless in his arms.

His bound hand lay limp in Sheppard's. They must have been holding on to each other the entire time.

McKay was licking bloody lips and staring down at a glazed and sated Sheppard in pleased disbelief.

House unlocked the cuffs and settled on his side with Wilson curled in front of him. He handed the key to McKay, who freed Sheppard and propped them both up against the headboard.

"Okay, that was pretty awesome," said Sheppard at last, still catching his breath.

"What's the Guinness record for…number of vampire-human sim…simultaneous orgasms?" asked Wilson.

Even McKay was breathing hard, and he didn't need to breathe. He lifted Sheppard's bitten wrist and rubbed his lips over the mark. "Mine," he said.

"Yours," Sheppard agreed, eyes falling closed.

McKay blinked. "Really?"

Sheppard chuckled. "Yeah."

McKay grinned down at him, then redirected it at House when he noticed Sheppard couldn't see.

"Stop smirking," Sheppard added without opening his eyes.

"So," said House. "Round one: four orgasms, two bites and a touching new companion bond. What would you say that's worth? A dozen new trauma beds? An MRI machine to demonstrate exactly how many patients are neurologically incapable of telling the truth? Silicone implants for the night nurses?"

"House," Wilson groaned. "You did not just hit them up for money _while we're in bed_."

House silenced him by pressing his semen-drizzled hand to Wilson's mouth. Wilson pursed his lips in annoyance, then gave in and lapped at House's fingers.

"Is there a TV remote around here?" asked McKay.

 

* * *

 

They lay entangled on the bed and heckled an _American Idol_ rerun. When Sheppard finished dozing, he and Wilson grabbed midnight snacks from the minibar.

Then the three of them tied Wilson to the bed and stroked and tickled and nipped at him and slid their fingers into his mouth and his ass and out again and didn't let him come until the second rerun ended.

Turned out, Wilson sucking McKay's dick made almost as pretty a picture as Sheppard sucking House's.

Turned out, Sheppard didn't mind taking a bite on the ass from McKay while Wilson offered House his femoral artery. By which House meant they writhed under their hands and mouths and made ecstatic noises.

("You're going to feel that for days," said Wilson, eyeing the blooming bruise. Sheppard only gave McKay a sly look.)

Turned out, four grown men could nap in the same bed if Wilson and Sheppard lay mostly on top of each other, secure under their masters' protective arms.

 

* * *

 

Turned out, the night had been worth—

" _Eight million_ dollars?" Wilson exclaimed, holding the notice House had received from Cuddy. Hand-delivered. With a shocked and unfairly suspicious look.

"Welcome to the future site of the M. Rodney McKay Allergy Treatment Center. Soon to be buzzing with state-of-the-art emergency care and clinical research on the deadly powers of bunnies and citrus fruits."

Wilson whistled. "Guess he was grateful you brought Sheppard and him together."

"I'm pretty sure at least one million was in appreciation of your blow job," House offered.

"…I'll come back later," said Chase. The glass door swung shut behind him.

"Think they'll visit for the ribbon-cutting ceremony?" Wilson asked.

Sheppard and McKay had been cagey about where they were stationed, but the letter was postmarked from an Air Force base in Colorado. Something told House they'd come back sooner. And when they did…

House gave Wilson a slow, dirty grin. Wilson grinned back, unconsciously tapping the edge of the envelope to the fresh mark on his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of the blood amulet came from Anne Rice novels. I'd like to think the collar McKay later gives Sheppard looks like [the necklace Joe Flanigan wore at the recent Vancouver Con](http://nakedwesley.livejournal.com/172529.html).


End file.
